When My Light Goes Out
by misa los domingos
Summary: Different perspectives on an alternate Death Note reality, in which Light and Misa cripple to a stronger life-force. Dark themes, uncensored. AU, spoilers for the whole series. REUPLOAD of a fic by a different name, different account, many reviews. Edit: now with lemons, be warned.
1. imagination

**disclaimer:** I don't own the Death Note.

**author's note:** had to _delete_ the old account. you guys know what that's like, right?

* * *

_you claim madness like it's convenient_  
_you do it so often, you start to believe it_  
_you have demons so nobody can blame you_  
_but, who is the master and who is the slave?_

* * *

**i light i**

Misa is my sin. I despise her. She is everything I've sought to eradicate from this world, and yet I cannot possibly deny that she is part of my destiny. This I do not seek to control. Misa has the Eyes and I must believe that such convenience is the world's way of granting me pension for my efforts. And yet, what makes Misa think she has the right to make demands of me? What makes her believe herself worthy? Me, the God of the New World, Lord of New Order? Server of Justice and the Savior of All - who does this frivolous, vain woman think she is?

I despise the way she fawns. I reproach her caresses and her attention. She doesn't love me. She does not know me.

But, how do I kill her? She seduces me into a web: dark laughter and iconography, hedonism and sweetness in the night. She must die. The snake, she thinks I don't know what's behind glitter kisses. And yet...

"Light, you know I would do anything for you. I would never betray you, never deny you. I want to follow you wherever you go, till the end of forever."

...I believe her.

Why does such devotion grow from the very guts of people like Misa?

I hurt her. I know because I hear her sniffles afterward. I know because it hurts me too. What does that mean? What does it signal: that suffering is inevitable in manners of love? If it's ever gentle it's insipid. I hate it, and I'm pretty sure Misa does too.

"Don't worry, Light, I know you're angry."

Does she. I'm angry at her, the fool! Who gave her the authority?

Sometimes the buzz in the foreground of my reality disappears under Misa's touch and then I hate her even more. But, I don't lose my composure. I remain dignified. I'll pinch her forearm. She'll shiver.

"I love you," she'll say. "I love you more than the world!"

Misa, if you love me you'll write your name in the notebook and go. Go to Mu. Perhaps one day I can take you to Heaven and then you'll find your place among the others and let Me Be.

I endure her, but for how much longer?

If only she'd let me enjoy her. There's times she'll wear these hair-bands for her pig-tails, with tiny skulls on them. There's times she'll decal her nails with sparkling roses. There's moments Misa looks so pious and precious, I let myself forget she's a whore. Or, maybe I just imagine that she's truly mine. Because I'm not her god. Her god is her own selfishness, her own solicitation. I cannot love her, will not love her. Misa cannot control me. Her god can have her. I don't need her.

But, I want her.

She's enthralling in all her femininity. She captivates all who see or hear her. She's invincible in this charm. How she dresses, how she speaks, all her mannerisms are... embroiling. I'd like to believe in them, really. I'd like to believe in Misa. I want to stop hurting her. I want to protect her in some other way than this. It's arousing, sometimes I can't take it. Sometimes I feel like I love her. Those are the most dangerous times because they make me livid. I always hurt her, somehow, some way, with insults and arrogance. Doesn't she understand that I wish she'd sprout wings and just comfort me?

Misa, dark angel, look what you do. You make a god a mere human. A desperate one. Can you find me under our sheets? Are you capable, are you worthy? Should I let you be the first to discover me? I pierce you, body and soul, but you still love me. What are you made of? Why do I despise your devotion to me, if there's a chance it's real? Why don't I pardon your presumption, brought on by your selfish little will? Am I so different?

You can't stop me. I won't let you. I can't let you win. But, I can't get rid of you. Die, Misa. If you loved me, you'd die. If you loved me, you'd sacrifice yourself. For me. For God... for... me.

* * *

**to be continued in ii**

* * *

**endnote:** obviously takes place after L's death and before the whole SPK incident


	2. worship

**disclaimer:** death note belongs to Ohba and Obata  
**author's note: ** this chapter gave me a headache for some reason ...go figure...

* * *

_i looked into your eyes _  
_and my world came tumbling down _  
_if i'm smart then i'll run away_  
_ but i'm not, so i guess i'll stay_

* * *

**ii**

Misa returns home shocked to find Light there. He looks... different.

"Light, darling! What's wrong?"

Misa's concerned but she's giddy. Light showing any vulnerability, well, that's a rare treat. Could this mean something happened to make him trust her more?

Light moves towards her as though he's going to strike her. Misa immediately cringes, eyes closing, gasping, but Light pauses. He releases a long breath as he stands before Misa, hands raised as if in adoration, gazing up and down. Misa's not sure what to do. Her mouth is opened and she can't seem to breathe.

"Misa."

Light voice is husky and broken. His eyes are large and dewy, like a sick child, with hazy gaze. His lips are cracked.

"I realized something," he says.

He touches her shoulders and looks in her eyes.

"Light?"

"Kiss me."

Misa's a little frightened as he leans in, but she lets herself be kissed. Light's mouth is always Heaven and tonight it tastes sweeter. Despite her anxiety and the worry that there must be something sinister behind this affection, she whimpers to the kiss.

Light steps back, brows furrowed as though he's frightened.

"Dress for me," he says.

Misa tilts her head forward so Light will repeat himself.

"Dress in that way, with your black corsets and your lace gloves and rosaries." He gesticulates vaguely towards her bureau. "Skulls and hearts and veils. The way you do."

"Why?"

Light says something that's either, "I love it," or, "I love you," Misa can't be sure but doesn't dare ask. Just the thought that it could be the latter is enough. Misa wonders for a moment what's happening, whether Light is being controlled by the owner of another Death Note. This intimacy is so wildly unfamiliar and sweet, it can't be real. Despite the worry, that natural sensation of strawberry-flavor flows down her throat, that happens only when truly wonderful things occur. Misa feels her heart bursting in her chest, the possibility in her mind, "Light's realizing he loves me, that he really loves me!" repeating.

She takes a chance:

"Will you dress me yourself?" she asks.

"Yeah. C'mon."

"Light!" Misa squeaks, then bites her lip, blushing. She shouldn't be so excited, but can't help it.

Misa watches the way Light examines her wardrobe, how he fingers the laces of her boots or the beads of her rosary. Her clips and jewelry sparkle in his hand like treasure. Gently, he pulls out a black lace chapel veil- Misa hadn't worn it in a long time and had forgotten about it.

"Do you worship in these clothes?" Light asks, golden eyes on her.

Misa frowns.

"Worship?"

"Yeah," says Light, "I know you were into the occult before Kira."

Part of Misa rejoices that he remembered. Another part worries as she wonders what he's thinking.

"I got into the occult because of the rumors that I had stalkers behind me," she explains. "Friends of mine warned me that I should learn techniques to shield my eyes to people who would try to steal my energy or cast negative spells on me-"

"But did you dress out of respect for any god or higher power? Did you actually use any of these sacramentals?" Light fingers a rosary.

"Y-yes." Misa feels like she should say quickly that it was all before Kira, but then realizes she has no explanation as to why she still wears them.

"Yes to what?" Light's testy again.

"Yes, I did dress out of respect for gods and goddesses of the occult. I-I also wanted to keep up with the fashion world, the way it was going. I suppose I haven't put much thought into it. Light, you're my only god."

Light places the chapel veil very reverently on her head.

"Do you suppose those gods brought you to me?" he asks.

"I can't say for sure," says Misa. "I don't even think they're real anymore. If you don't want me to wear anything religious, I won't anymore!" Light says nothing but merely holds Misa's hand, stroking it, not looking at her.

After some time, he moves. He gently removes all of Misa's clothing and helps her into the garments they had laid out. She's divine under Light's hands, like a Black Madonna or a Lady of Sorrows.

He kisses her shoulder as he finishes lacing her from behind. She smells of gardenia. Light's had Misa many times and knows all her body's secrets, but he was always too distracted to love it. Now, with sorrow in his murdering heart, he sees her with new eyes and realizes that he's placed more trust in her than he ever imagined wanting to: in these last few years Misa has judged as many souls as he. Light, unthinkingly, has given Misa his pen. His fidelity. The dawning of such an idea, after years spent furious with his own feelings, is like burning ice to the heated young man's heart. Now, he's sad. He can't control what destiny has placed in front of him: a goddess. Light hates what he cannot control, and yet, there's no other alternative. That much he knows. He might as well enjoy his predicament and encourage Misa to demonstrate her deepest desires. They must echo his own, if she truly is Second Kira.

Misa senses the emotion under the touch of Light's lips and sighs. As she stands facing him, she sees something. She sees that under these conditions, when senses are heightened and things are bare, there should be so much more love in his eyes than there is. Misa sees and knows. She decides something. She decides that, though she knows Light doesn't love her, she'll follow him anyway. She will put all her faith in him. She'll hold him in her heart till he shreds through it. Light will ruin her. Misa's sure. But, it will have been worth it. There is no other alternative. To face the alternatuce- some distant, faded, caricature notion that Kira is evil and that Misa's entire reality is a lie- is no solution. They've come this far. Misa's come this far. She's doomed.

As Light kisses Misa with intensity and passion, and whispers against her lips that she's his goddess, she knows. She knows he's lying. Tears threaten to tumble forth but Misa breathes in deeply the breath of the all-powerful and holds back her sadness. Things fall into place as Light pretends- how wonderful he is at pretending to the world and finally, yes, now, to Misa. But, it's pretend. Still. Light's never pretended with her before. Which is better? she thinks as he runs his mouth along her sensitive thighs, his ink-stained fingers stroking wonders. Which is better: the Light who pretends, or Kira, who never pretends? Usually, when Light kisses between Misa's legs he's torturous and slow, smirking, whispering, assuring Misa's complete obedience. Now he's being sincere. Practically naïve. This is what it would be like if he'd never touched the Death Note after capturing Higuchi and never regained his memories.

Misa pretends too and falls in love with the illusion of salvation. Then it's time to fall to her knees before Light, dressed to worship.

* * *

**to be continued in iii**


	3. addiction

**disclaimer: ** Death Note belongs to Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata, those mad geniuses.  
**author's note: ** omg why haven't the shinigami's been mentioned?

* * *

_when did your name _  
_change from language to magic?_  
_ i'll write it again on the back of my hand _  
_and i know it sounds tragic_

* * *

**iii misa iii**

Light, I love you.

I hear music when I think of you. It must be your name, that beautiful name. Just saying it is like sighing. Or praying. Don't pretend. I'd rather feel your teeth rip my flesh than to feel a soft kiss. Don't you know there's value to suffering? I don't mind suffering your wrath. It's what a servant would do for her master.

Yes. Right there.

I learned from the occult. I learned about the power of a name. How its syllables slip through my teeth. How much breath is required to say it. Yours dances in my mouth. "Light."

The Cabalists believe in the breath of God. Their divine language is based on the essence of ideas. The letters are like houses and raindrops, the words like whispers. Islamic sultans used calligraphy to sign, such that each curve contributed to a magnificent figure displaying their sovereign might. Our Japanese kanji system has symbols for words, strokes and arrows: your moon-figure "Light" looks like a more perfect version of the הי symbol in the three Abrahamic religions, more enclosed and sheltering than it, and that's what kind of god you are. This whole world and all forms of worship were created for you, do you see? It's perfect. You learn their names and hold their essence in your grasp to judge. And I've been waiting for you...

夜神 月  
Yagami Light.

Every nuance of it is on my lips, between your teeth.

A universe of lies threatens itself on me, but I abandon my senses to your name. You're all I care about. They can have their mystical mazes, illuminated labyrinths and their empty words of wisdom. There is nothing truer than the might of a name.

You whimper. I love you, Light, even when you lie. Your smile is insincere but it's the best thing I've ever seen.

"I know you're scared." You push against me. "Don't be scared."

Yagami Light. I can't say anything for some time but you do:

"You write their names down for me, as my right hand. Oh. And don't think I didn't choose you, that you were thrust on me-" Ah. Light. "-no. No, it was fate and I made the choice. I did. I could have found a way to eliminate you and Rem simultaneously, I was not cornered!" Your breath is hot on my face. Yes, now this feels a little more like you... Kira. Though divine, you're also human, and that gives you every right to want control. I don't mind it. I don't, I promise.

"Never," I slur, raking your back.

You pierce into me and I can't resist you. It's white hot pleasure between our thighs. The boy I loved at first sight has fallen into my arms. Destiny.

But this time is strange, because I sense helplessness in you. You're never helpless. I don't know what to do. It's pushing me closer to that threshold where the lies threaten.

"Do you really love me?" I whimper before I can help it.

"You," Light gasps. "You killed the enemy and a shinigami!" He's laving at my shoulder as he rocks inside me.

My mind splinters. My thighs ache from spreading so far so he can infuse his light into me. My question wasn't answered. _Keep the lies back._

"I'm sorry," I breathe.

My hair tangles under Light's hands and he's shutting me up with kisses. Hot, insatiable truth drips down from Heaven to our conjoined loins so that I know we'll lose control soon. Then what? Will the lies surface? Will he hurt me like he often does? ...Will I like it? Oh, who do I pray to in this moment?

All I have in my lungs is an admission: "Light! Oh, please. Light, I love you. Please, please, go on, I can't take it!" Light smells just like he does before he climaxes.

"Misa, you witch," Light cries and spits, almost sobbing. He trembles as he demands, "why do you reduce me to this?"

Then Light thrusts so hard I scream in alarm, spasm, clench and cry. He's squeezing me so tight so that I couldn't open my wings if I had any.

"I love you, I love you!" It tears from Light's throat like a terrible confession, laced with enough hatred that his words just might be true. Then the New World paints itself an oil canvas before my eyes, bleeding hearts on fire, rotting sin incinerating to dust, Light as a human being instead of the monster we both know he is...

"Light!" I call to a god, any god, who can make a dream come true. Why do I foresee only death?

I feel the squishiness of his sliding out of me. Then I see his eyes and I know it's one of those times when he does something so perverse yet sacred it freezes my brain. He does: he crawls down between my legs and begins drinking his own semen from me. I shiver. Light, my love, why act so curious about mysticism and the occult when you know it better than me?

Then Light kisses my mouth: pride and deception, my blood and your own salty grace tainting my lips.

"Are you afraid?" Light rasps.

"Yes," I answer honestly.

Light grins the way I've seen him grin at Ryuk.

* * *

_he tore my clothes right off _  
_he ate my heart and then he ate my brain _  
lady gaga, "monster"

* * *

**to be continued in iv**


	4. conception

**disclaimer: ** Death Note belongs to Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata  
**author's note:** will someone fucking review me already?

* * *

_god gave a present to me _  
_made of flesh and bone_  
_ my life, my soul _  
_you make my spirit whole_

* * *

**iv **

That's the night their child's conceived. What better night for that than the night Light's convinced himself he loves Misa? Fate. Misa's womb now serves as home to Light's heir, her nutritive rush of blood sustaining the tiny god until birth months later.

Misa knows because she feels the light of another life deep within. When it was confirmed, when Misa's monthly bleeding failed to come, Misa stared in the mirror and waited to see a name and life-span on her lower abdomen. Without a name yet or a face, Misa couldn't see anything.

Some time passes until the night Light and Misa whisper about it.

"What will he be like?" Misa asks. She knows it's male.

Light skims careful fingers over Misa's belly. He doesn't like intimacy. He muses that he can feel the tingling of another life. Because he's taken so many lives he's attuned to life at its nascent state.

"Me," he replies.

Before Kira, wenches of the western world raved about life not being life until birth, and even then that things were negotiable. Light knew all about those women. Knew of abortion clinics. Planned Parenthood. The social issue of "when life truly begins." America. The land of opportunity. The land of self-made authority. Women, the mentality opinionated, had every right to renounce any natural house-wife instincts to make "their own decisions about their destinies, and most importantly their bodies," while encouraging the murder of innocent unborn children and breeding gylanic-dominant values in the minds of scrambled overly-immature men. The virus spread past the western world, directly challenged the religious institutions who'd relied on hierarchy and divine right, and downright permeated itself into the eastern world, where Light and Misa were from. The eastern world, who suffered the repercussions of the industrial revolution, was overpopulated anyway, and whose deep-rooted values relied more heavily than the westerners on hierarchy and imperialism. Communism was a samurai sword buried deep in the bosom of the eastern culture. Kira had worked on easing it out and turning it on his enemies: destroyers. Liars. Dictators, corrupted officials. The greediest, most power-hungry leaders and heads-of-state. He didn't kill them all. No. But the sword is pointed. And the sword is hot. Light is young and beautiful. The way a savior always should be.

Misa would become wife and she'd become mother. They're already wed by this act of creation, Light teaches her. It's beautiful and Misa sighs at how perfect it seems.

She secretly praises her occult gods and shinigami's. Now at least Light will truly love another little human unconditionally, his own flesh and blood. Even if it may never be herself. It is a part of her.

* * *

**to be continued in v**


	5. marriage

**disclaimer:** Ohba and Obata made it up!

**author's note:** please, please, please, review me because I can't continue knowing that a lot of people aren't reading. thxx

* * *

_got no boundaries, got no limits _  
_where there's excitement, put me in it _  
_if it's against the law, arrest me _  
_if you can handle it, undress me_

* * *

**v**

Misa's whims are not satisfied by Light. She vomits; Light helps her, but only distantly. Only because it's the "correct" thing. Shinigami Ryuk grunts and giggles at them.

Misa stops performing and breaks off all future engagements to star in anything. She eats a lot. She tells all her friends all about her wishes and dreams, while leaving out the truth that she is pregnant. Life becomes quite cushy for Misa. She begins fearing she'll fall into anonymity. But Light will not have anyone else knowing about Misa's pregnancy until she begins showing, no. Then his mother and father and Sayu can titter and fuss all they like. Though, of course, the wedding is due. Unquestioningly the wedding is due. Light knows.

Months after conception, while Misa's only grown a little rounder, she and Light are fitted into elaborately woven traditional kimonos and their wedding takes place in the Meiji Shrine. It's a blur. All Light sees is white hot light around the earth, burning up his New World into blissful complacency. All Misa sees are Ryuk's razor teeth, laughing his wheezing laugh, and what's so funny?

By the time they're on the honeymoon flight to Los Angeles their circumstances have them stifled. They suffocate under the weight of tradition, a thing that will not be controlled by Kira. Centuries upon centuries of Japanese tradition has whiddled down members of their generation, and the youth are merely by-products, corrupted into notions of social illusion, appearances and materialism. Light's Death Note has dented the world- Japanese culture, particularly- but it's a dent of only a few years' vigilante murders by a young genius. Tradition doesn't die along with people, it survives in the subtlest of culture corners. The earth itself has felt the effect of destructive humans and avenges itself in avalanches and poisoned sewers. The earth is older than Kira and will be around much longer to feel and know corruption better than Light Yagami ever did.

The incense from the wedding ceremony still lingers in the couple's hair. They've changed out of their kimonos but Misa's face is still made-up and Light's hands blister from lighting so many fires. The sake begins to dissipate inside their veins. The fuzzy after-effect has got Light scowling and Misa sighing.

Unboarding, the pair are congratulated by many fellow countrymen who know they were just wed. Light holds Misa close to him as they run through LAX airport and emerge into the sunny, smoky California air. People from all shapes, colors, sounds and sizes walk the city.

Misa's overwhelmed by the names she sees haloed above their heads.

"Their names are so different," she says wonderingly.

"Hadn't you said you traveled here before?" Light asks.

"Yes, but before I made the Deal..."

Light's gazing at the public pouring out of the airport. His thoughts... Could they ever imagine that it's I who's raked their city clean of the filth once here? Are they grateful?

He hails a taxi and speaks perfect English to the driver, asking politely if he'll open the trunk to store their luggage. The driver is Hispanic, relatively young, who very subtly regards Light with mock and a little jealousy. There's a look in this eyes that suggests his superiority to Light, though he is poorer and less educated, because he knows the rumble of the city. He casts an eye upon Misa as well, who only smiles excitedly.

Misa remembers she wants to shop on Rodeo Drive after settling into their hotel. When she asks her husband, in her broken English so as to show off, Light refuses and insists they spend the rest of the day "writing."

"But, Light!"

They mount the taxi and by the way Light shuts the door- not hard enough to damage the car but hard enough to make his point- Misa knows to stop asking. They drive on.

"You know, being in this city, is important seeing everything." The driver smiles challengingly through the rear-view mirror at Light. "I think the lady deserve go shopping, no?"

Light coolly gazes back.

"Or, if no," the driver continues boldly, "then there is many places Chinese here in Los Angeles, and you feel more in home! Do you know this? Call 'China Town,' I can take you there. Is only ten more dollars."

Light gets testy: "I'd thank you to stop your suggestions. To the Four Seasons, nothing more."

"OK, OK. I see. You no have to get so angry." He chuckles and attempts one more jab: "Your girlfriend is much pretty and if you angry all the time, she maybe think leaving you!"

"Wife, sir!" Misa quips defensively in attempted English. "Raito-san my husband is, sir. Sir is rude! Sir not know Chinese _not_ we are! Nihonjin we are: ehm... Japanese, how say in English. Sir is rude! Unjust."

Light grabs Misa's arm.

"Shut up," he hisses in Japanese.

Misa huffs and obeys.

"I sorry, I sorry!" insists the driver, though his laugh is patronizing. "I be quiet, I only try be nice. I say no more."

Light's grip on Misa loosens and he leans toward her possessively. As he kisses the spot under her ear, he whispers like a prayer, "judge him how you wish."

Misa grins.

Misa opens her handbag where the Death Note is kept in a binder and slides it out. Her gaze shifts from the Note to the driver, whose name she sees above his head is Roberto Gutierrez. Misa fishes for a pen.

Light stops Misa as he takes out his own pen from his jacket pocket. He motions for Misa to slide the Note over, then indicates with his gaze that he can read the information card on the back of the passenger's seat, and already knows the name. Light wants to write it.

He gazes at his watch, makes a few calculations in his head then jots things down in the Note, closes it up and hands it back to Misa, smirking.

They arrive at the Four Seasons and exit the taxi. Light snaps his fingers at Roberto Gutierrez, motioning that he unload all their luggage and hand it over to the concierges waiting at the hotel entrance. The driver gives him another patronizing look and Light's lip curls.

Roberto stands before Light when he's handed everything over and Light places a one-hundred dollar bill in his hands. The driver almost drops the bill when he takes a look at it. He marvels at Light.

"_Dios lo sabe todo_," Light mutters in Spanish. The driver nods and grins nervously, guiltily. He doesn't stop staring at Light as he steps back into the car.

As the couple are ushered into the luxurious hotel and led through cushy hallways to their suite, Misa asks Light what he'd said in Spanish, remarking that she didn't know he even _spoke_ Spanish but wasn't surprised, "given how intelligent and sophisticated" he was.

Light replies simply, "God knows everything."

"Yeah," Misa replies. "But, what did you say to the driver?"

Light smirks.

"Just that."

* * *

**to be continued in vi**

**p.s.** I have to link to this, it's the kind of image to swim in one's head:

forevermedhok. deviantart (dotcom) /art/Light-Yagami-Trapped-in-Shinigami-World-28357 9105

you're beautiful when you suffer, Light. mostly because you deserve it :)


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